


Forget the storm

by ecapss



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 09:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17505662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecapss/pseuds/ecapss
Summary: Anti doesn't like the rain. Mark doesn't mind.





	Forget the storm

A drop of rain hits the wind shield with a light tap. Mark drops his head back into the neck rest.

 

“Fuck.”

 

Rain isn’t an often occurrence in L.A, but he tries to prepare for those few odd days the best he can. Of course the only real difference is the rare use of his heavy coat and boots, the intent to buy an umbrella always fading with the return of the sun before he follows through, but it’s enough to get by. The rain is simply a minor inconvenience.

 

Then he meets Anti, and the rain changes.

 

Not to anyone else of course, commuters never slowing in their directionless rush though dripping streets, but for Mark rain means no matter what, he needs to be home.

 

Or rather, Anti needs him to be.

 

It’s an odd thought at first, Anti needing him. He never had before, the man intimidating to a level of fear Mark would never admit too. This sense of wild joy that twists Anti’s world into a playground of sins, dancing through life with a manic laugh and an open bottle. It could be endearing, his ability to find entertainment in everything, if it weren’t so intense. If Mark found him in bed lightly hungover after parties instead of blacked out in some shadowed corner. If he took his stress out before work instead of coming home covered in blood.

 

Whatever the case, Anti lives. He lives confidently and for his own pleasure, which doesn’t often entitle itself to co-dependency. The demon operates on instinct or chaos, always demanding attention with his rash behavior and driving Mark mad with impulsivity. His refusal to communicate initially hurt Mark’s naturally open and honest nature, but soon he learns Anti is just not a mushy guy. And things become manageable.

 

Until it rains.

 

The blanket of sound and soft light filtered by storm clouds softens the fire in Anti. It’s only in the midst of a storm that Mark sees something unconfident in his eyes, muddling the electric blue with duller uncertainty. He’s too afraid to call it to Anti’s attention for fear he’ll stop, but after hard months of learning how to quiet the constant anxieties that water down Anti’s thoughts, Mark cherishes the rare, dreary LA rains that ensure quiet, intimate moments.

 

He loves Anti always, but it’s nice to get to take care of him. It’s nicer that he’s trusted too.

 

After carefully closing the front door, Mark returns to their shared apartment with a melted heart at the state of his boyfriend. Anti is wrapped with the comforter that belongs on their bed, messed green hair curled over his face. The coach swallows his smaller frame, tucked into the corner, as an old action movie plays with the sound off. Mark carefully sits next to him.

 

“You asleep?”

 

Eyes closed, Anti fumbles for Mark and pulls himself closer until he’s curled into his side with a hum of acknowledgment, pulling the comforter with him.

 

“Fuckin’ siesta of the century.” He mumbles, voice raspy and small, wrapping his arms tightly around Mark’s shoulders and burying his face. Anti always runs cold, his nose like ice against Mark’s neck and his whole torso chilly against his even with the blanket. Mark takes in the sight of their shared apartment, noting the takeout containers strewn about the coffee table, empty cans of energy drinks scattered next to them. He sighs.

At least he's eating.

 

“Seems like it.” Despite the familiarity, Mark’s hands are careful as they go to return the embrace. Anti is by no means fragile, but the moment is. The soft words, tense muscles, even his blurred look are all typical for these kinds of days, but comforting a creature that so heavily rejects it is an intricate process. “Everything alright?”

 

Anti melts into the gentle circles being rubbed on his bare back, trying to calm the undercurrent of anxiety. After a noncommittal sigh of agreement, he nods slightly against Mark’s chest.

 

“Hungry?” Defeated, Anti pouts as he realizes Mark won’t let him lazily float until the rain ends. Speaking in moments like these takes far too much effort, but his boyfriend is stupidly persistent, so he answers the best he can.

 

“Don’t know. Cold. Tired.”

 

Anti has a hard time sleeping without Mark. He denies it full heartedly, but they both know short trips away have their effect on the demon. It seems this time was no exception.

 

Mark pulls back slightly to gain a better gauge on Anti’s emotions, his face a twist of uncertainty. Sometimes Anti just needs a reminder in these moments not to overthink his words, or overthink them in a way Mark can help untangle. He provides that.

 

“You wanna tell me what’s going through that mind, bat?”

 

Anti hides, slumping back into the hug with high shoulders.

 

“It’s just-“ The voice crack startles Mark, panic flaring as Anti begins to shake, “really fuckin’ loud.”

 

His voice jumps and crackles, the TV flipping through channels wildly as Anti angrily digs his palms against his eyes as he tries to calm the outburst. A tense minute of static passes as he gasps harsh breaths until his shivering calms, the TV snapping off. Mark gently pries his hands away from his face. Anti looks down.

 

“I would’ve come back if you had told me it was getting this bad.”

 

The lamp on the side table shatters, shooting glass in all directions. Mark ducks as Anti’s voice starts to deteriorate, mangled and pitching.

 

“So you can just get hurt when I break?” He jerks, tugging at his hair violently as he growls through clenched teeth. “It’s always loud Mark, I know how to handle it!”

 

He swallows, hating the sight of his demon in pain. He should have come home sooner.

 

“I know dear, it’s okay.”

 

 Anti’s manic cackle charges the air, a twisted echo of the easy smiles of his arrival. The lights flicker, dimming to almost nothing.

 

“Okay?” He spits out the word, "Are you stupid or fucking insane?”

 

Mark's bright smile confuses Anti as he settles his hands against the small of his back.

 

“Well you’re already fucking insane, so I guess that leaves me stupid.”

 

And there’s the soft, honest laughter that floods Mark with relief, something controlled returning to Anti’s eyes. His tense shoulders drop, sheepishly wiping at his eyes as he catches his breath.

 

“Must be if you love a thing like me.”

 

Mark’s ribs squeeze his heart at the genuine wonder in Anti’s voice. It's a reminder that no one else has ever been this patient with him, as willing to tackle his fits head on. But even though the intense ones, the days when he loses himself, Mark will always be here to guide him back. He loves him. So fucking much.

 

But in no way does that mean he isn’t going to tease him.

 

“Now, is my little diva done being dramatic so I can help quiet those thoughts?”

 

Anti pouts, crossing his arms with an annoyed huff.

 

“That’s cute, I’ll remember that next time you start sobbing over puppy videos like a prepubescent teen.”

 

Mark hums, yanking sharply on both sides of the blanket and sharply pulling Anti against him. He squeaks, trying to untangle his arms in an attempt to catch himself on Mark’s chest.

 

“That isn’t an answer, bat.”

 

Anti finally looks up, meeting his eyes.

 

“Please.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've been gone for a while. Sorry about that.  
> Im not in love with this. if im honest its not at all what i want to be writing   
> but its what happened and at this point its better then not writing at all.  
> ya feel?  
> ecapss


End file.
